Ofekriver: God, you're so cute, man. *pats you* Curiously masochistic cute
who kills off her babies' loved ones, but all the better for the Hallmark
movie.
thissugarcane: yes, yes, I know.
thissugarcane: but. Ephram! how could you suggest such a thing.
Ofekriver: That was supposed to be curiously sadistic cute, btw, but as we've
mentioned this works too.
thissugarcane: masochistic works too, cause, dude, I hurt myself as much as
you.
Ofekriver: Er... because Andy should get to mourn a little more too? I don't
really want to see him lose his kid, though. I don't want you to kill Ephram
for Andy more than Andy for Ephram.
thissugarcane: oh my GOD
thissugarcane: oh my god

Andy doesn't cry.

Andy doesn't cry. Ever.

He nods at all the people murmuring their condolences in Everwood's tiny
little hall. He nods at Dr. Abbott, who comes over with a vaseful of freshias,
puts them on the table with the picture solemnly, and doesn't say a goddamned
word.

He nods at Edna, who's the only one not in all black other than Delia, when
she says, "doc, you seem to have all the bad luck."

He smiles painfully, tightly, at Nina, when she comes over to cook dinner
for him and Delia, and he thanks her quietly. She tells him, "I though
the two of you could use a good meal, is all," but then clamps her jaw
closed, because it was no secret that the only one in their family who could
cook wasn't Andy or Delia.

He nods at people at the service.

He nods at the reverend, after the sermon, and he watches Dr. Abbott's daughter
cry.

Amy comes up to him at the hall, as he's rearranging flowers so they'll all
fit on the table. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Brown," she says. "I'm
so sorry."

He nods at her, says something inane. Something about lovely flowers.

"He was such. He was." She looks at the picture on the table, the
picture all the nice flowers are arranged around.

Andy is glad when she drifts away.

Andy wants, what he really wants, is to stare at that picture forever. Long
enough that he can almost see it move, from blurry vision. long enough that
he can picture it moving, smiling again.

Julia hasn't come to him in months, and that means he's not crazy. Andy hasn't
ever been angrier he isn't crazy.

He nods a goodbye to people as they come and go, all to offer their condolences
to him. Delia holds tightly to his hand, and actually does most of the talking.

"Thank you," she says over and over and over again, and sniffles
constantly.

Andy told her in the car, "the minute you want to leave, we leave,"
and she nodded, but Delia's holding up and she looks okay, she looks all right.
Andy doesn't think it's hurting her to be here, except what does he know about
parenting? that was all Julia, Julia or dumb fucking luck, Julia, luck and--

"Andy," Nina says, "are you ready to go?"

He looks around the hall. Most people are gone, there's a less formal service
- party even, except no one wants to use a word that cheery - at the diner
for friends and family. He should go, they should go. Delia is sitting with
Edna on a table, smelling Dr. Abbott's flowers.